the limit of my language is the limit of my thought

we know something but loses its meaning when we express it in language.
this is not a mystery but due to the limit of our knowledge. there is limit to our knowledge of course.
i'm not a "kantian" nor a "wittgensteinian", so as to be blinded in following their fundamental thoughst about reality. it only takes a reflection to realize that reality is more that logic/language. the limit of knowledge i am talking here is about our ability to put into logic/language everything we experienced.

the limit of knowledge refers to our in-ability to know things "in themselves". the act of knowing itself is limited in its power to the appearances of things, but not the things in themselves. feeling is a one-act-reality and one possible way to penetrate it is through intuition. we might ask, what is intuition by the way? intuition itself is the conceptualized meaning of feeling, ITSELF. so, when we say we need to intuit upon something, we are on the allusion of "feeling" something. we can feel the heat of a glowing-ember, however, we can only say that what we feel is "heat" and we can not really know what heat is in tself for we're just describing after the feeling feels something. we didnt come to create "heat" and then to feel the "heat". feeling comes first and then we try to conceptualized the experience as "heat/hot".

now, how about the question of god's existence? the god i/you know, does not exist in logic. logic/language is the realm where god is being purged or annihilated. the existence of god that "you" are feeling can not be demonstrated logically/philosophically. the feeling you have about god loses its meaning when put into logic/language. it's your belief. and your belief can not be taken away from you whatever the logical attempt is.

the deepest pleasure is metaphysical too

sex is more than the pleasure of the senses. sex is the ultimate union between two ego. the act of letting one's ego to be absorbed by the other ego. a wish fulfilled by containing and letting someone's ego to drip blissfully towards your own reality. a complete union. it's the ultimate-eros domination different from the destuctive thanatos instinct. however, the affair isnt a one-sided submission and domination. it is where both submit-and-dominate their ego for the consuming joy. the dis-appearance of shamefulness is due to the open-ness of the ego. when the ego at last, surrenders itself, example in sex, the feeling of being ashmed will utterly gone. it's the foundation of confidence when example, a two ego, let themselves plunged into one of the deepest union...sex.

loneliness a fellow...

It is raining outside I feel the cold wind enveloping my skin
Reminding me of something winter tell tale
Isn't life a paradox sometimes?
In sadness we could see the meaning of life?
Oh, I need someone to fill my longings
And to share with me the sweetest things in life
Life is one and only once; time is unidirectional
What this world's worth when someone's yearnings deemed nothing?
What this life's worth when mine's love denied to nothing?
My heart and mind swaying and deeply forlorn
In the womb of earth where I belong
I climb the mountains so steep without a stop
Living a life where always like the nights
Trying to mend the poignancy of endless plights
Wouldn't I rejoice learning the life of the melancholy Dane*?
In the bosom of learning and wisdom he faced all the bane
Loneliness thus becomes a fond fellow not so mellow
The paradox furiously grinding my heart I so much adore?
Alas, the divine whispers not so cold, the angels murmur in chore
Thence, thine's love and life end not in vain
For it let hold the nostalgia I am enduring in pain
For loneliness is a purest expression so crystal clear
Where existence makes its calling deep deep in my heart
Hugging me with all its fury and love, to thwart
The ubiquitous sickly howling call of the dark abyss of no return
Gives ne the momentous moment til life there is
To cherish it and live it that I will never miss



* melancholy Dane = the eccentric existentialist genius Soren AabyeKierkegaard

in despair...

when mine's life sees the beauty of life. when thine's heart hear mine's love. alas, oh, girl of my life why though thine's heart seekeths else?

everytime thou put me in sorrow and pain not realizing the care i fare. mine's love thou didnt see? and evey lieth you do without faith?

oh, lady of mine. when thou do always. nay, thou never know i'm hurt?

and put me in deep despair til time you seeketh me what mine's life seeketh

three stages of one's life

the aesthetic. it's the moment where the freedom of instinct pervades in one's life. like a restless bee trying every nectar sample of a flower. it's the stage of innocence and the soul putting itself wondrously in the world. wanting the world as the land of neverlands. the full freedom is in its hands. the dynamic soul scourging every corner of life with its freshness like a tranquil morning. unrestrained and unproblematic, the paradisical reality is its longing.

the ethical. shall i call it logical or rational too? it's the time when the soul begins to reflect on life. putting every reason to what existence all about. although, finding that these reasons not all times agreeable or appreciative to it, it founds itself burdened to accept a duty of one's existence. realizing that while its consciousness expands, the level of duty is whispering in its life. it is the moment where iself needs its logic or reason to decide what's best for itself and/or for something else. it's the the most exciting moment since the dawn of its discovery(the ethical) and most glorious as it thoughts. nay, never realizing unless it takes a more deep reflection if what it found is the finality to its salvation.

the religious. when my reason feigns?when every thing sways like never have the strength to change pace?leading to despair.shall i put my life into the hand of the absurd? thou art you most high, into your hand shall i rest my soul? when my spirit so tired and when my intellect cried, that myself heplessly in blight, may you allow me to languish in thine's life. once more the metaphysics of old mezmerizing so deeply but bold?

absurd

i wonder why i wonder if i think of this life. does my wondering lead to wandering? let's see...life is beautiful..maybe..coz of our aesthetic nature? or life can be a damn banality? which is which? let's see..from wondering to wandering or wandering to wondering? i think i might have convulsion this moment thinking if my contextual concepts really matters for good consideration or a pile of rubbish verbiage...one thing makes me to glee this moment...the journey is too tempting not to preempt...

nonsense to do nothing?

nonsense to do nothing
sitting alone in a dark corner waiting for nothing to attack my volatile self. alas, who says nothing-ness makes nonsense? the more i gather my self, the more i want to form something to express myself, the very content IN myself, i just feel nothingess creeps deviously and erodes me with all my joy on something "should-have-been seen" wondrously. i have just realize that seeking the depths of something, nothingness invades my mind and stole my cheerfulness and excitment and gives me, rather, the "devil's gift" of madness. for instance, there is something i feel deep in me, then i begin to leap with joy of what i've found, there is this almost indescribable ecstatic feeling in me...my thoughts begin to work, trying to give reason of what is happening deep in me..trying to "categorize " what's really happening now...it widens, it expands, it "dribbles" and "kicks" in my mind with such beaming joy. soon, i am immersed into the sea of intensification and glorification of what i would rather meant with my feeling within and of course, i am LOST. dizziness rattles the forming picture being formed by my thoughts, and when it collapses, madness comes to the fore. the more i tried to work it out, the more my thoughts loses its power, the more i intensify my feeling within me..the more i want to feel its sweetest sweetness, the more i lost the "thoughts" i want to picture of what i feel. why? is this a paradox? that the most beautiful is inexpressible, or that we're just trying to make nothing into something? that nothing-ness itself..after all is the ground of both beauty and madness...

no title...

it's like my life wants to journey into a deep eternal sleep.
wanting myself to float into the dark endless void
gone to the far far not of this world
but the sweetness of nothingness
alas, could emptiness be a disguised blessing?
wherein we could see the ultimate resting?
oh, how i wish am longing death sometimes
whispering in my ears with sweet sounding rhymes.


(these thoughts just came into my mind when alone in my bed, eyes deep open in the dark, reflecting about life and great melancholia strucked my very being)

In the Beginning...

in the beginning there is nothing...